Vektor (8 page)

“I don’t like the timing. The nation still hasn’t recovered from True America’s attack. Public outcry about our apparent lack of infrastructure security has kicked up a storm of Congressional inquiries, none of which appears coordinated…yet. Congressmen and senators are tripping over each other to satisfy their constituents, threatening to open fact-finding investigations into every organization with an acronym. When they get their collective act together and start cooperating, the 9/11 Commission Report will look like a one page intel summary. The Department of Justice has fielded over twenty-two thousand Freedom of Information Act requests over the past two weeks alone. Last year they processed sixty-one thousand in total. It’s going to be a long year for all of us, gentlemen, especially the CIA. I have it on good authority that the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence plans to dig deep. I don’t think we can afford to have the operation you’ve suggested on the books.”

The CIA director nodded and tapped his pencil on the table. “I’ve been assured that this operation can be accomplished off the books,” he said. “The facility can be destroyed and the principals neutralized by a small team. No agency assets will be used. The facility appears to be a soft target.”

“How can you be sure it’s a ‘soft target’?” Jacob Remy asked, mimicking quotation marks with both hands to emphasize “soft target.” “A secret Russian bioweapons facility? I think you’re underestimating the security involved. We can’t afford an international incident. Not now.”

Karl Berg couldn’t resist interrupting the conversation. Selling them on the mechanics of a plan that hadn’t been developed was pointless if they didn’t agree that the facility represented a clear and present danger to the United States. He wasn’t sure they had reached this consensus yet.

“Mr. President, may I?”

Jacob Remy looked annoyed by the interruption.

“Please,” the president assented.

“During the Cold War, Vektor Labs was part of the Biopreparat system, a vast network of secret laboratories, each focused on a different pathogenic weapon. Vektor produced smallpox. Biopreparat dissolved with the collapse of the Soviet Union, and most of the facilities were abandoned. Vektor survived and became the State Research Center of Virology and Biotechnology, hosting international scientists and serving as Russia’s equivalent to our CDC. The elite army regiment that guarded the facility during the Cold War no longer exists. Our information suggests that security is provided by a small contract force consisting of Russian ex-special forces and—”

“That doesn’t sound like a soft target,” Remy interrupted.

“It’s soft for the group we’ll use. Beyond contract security, response to a facility breach would be reactive in nature. A regional Spetsnaz group is tasked to provide a rapid response team in case of emergency, but it won’t arrive in time to make a difference. They’re hiding an illegal bioweapons lab in plain sight. It’s a soft target because they’re trying to draw attention away from the facility. The team can destroy the lab. I have no doubt about that. The real question is do we believe that this facility needs to be destroyed? Based on what I’ve seen in the past month, I firmly believe that this facility spells trouble. Weaponized encephalitis is just one of many WMDs in the works at Vektor. The Russians are developing offensive weapons, and as we can clearly see by their cover-up of Monchegorsk, they’re taking extreme measures to keep this a secret. I say we bury their secret before even scarier groups get their hands on their work.”

“Do you have evidence to suggest other groups are actively pursuing that angle?” the president asked, turning to the National Security Advisor.

“The Iranians have been aggressively pursuing multiple WMD routes.”

“I’m not asking about the perpetual quest by Islamic fundamentalists for weapons of mass destruction. I need a specific, actionable reason to authorize an attack on this facility. If you told me Iranian agents were headed there in two hours to take possession of biological weapons, I’d vaporize the site. I don’t disagree that this is a nasty place that would be better off as a smoldering ruin, but I need to put an end to our little low-intensity conflict with the Russians before it spirals out of control. I understand we’ve lost a CIA officer in Stockholm? What happens to our people when Vektor labs is attacked?”

Thomas Manning stepped in to answer the president’s question. “Mr. President, I don’t believe Mr. Reese’s disappearance is a retribution-style action. Too much time has elapsed since Stockholm. They’re still trying to piece together what happened to the Russian scientist that could blow the lid off their secret. The Russians can’t afford to draw any attention to this. They’re still sitting on a powder keg up in the Kola Peninsula. Our analysts believe that they won’t respond to a surgical strike limited to the bioweapons facility. This may even give the Russians a way out of the mess they’ve created in the Kola Peninsula. We could even congratulate certain counterparts in their Foreign Intelligence Service on a job well done.”

“A job well done?” Remy asked.

“They uncovered and destroyed a rogue bioweapons program responsible for creating the weapon used in Monchegorsk to turn the population homicidal. They had no choice but to suppress the population using military force. At the same time, Putin can publicly express his outrage against the development of biological weapons and announce that Russia will host a summit to develop plans to prevent this kind of a tragedy in the future. Something like that,” Manning said.

“Or he’ll do nothing and simply stare at me with emotionless eyes the next time we meet,” the president said.

“Either way, Mr. President, the United States and the world will be a safer place. Frankly, this mission is worth the risks involved, even if it gets messy afterward. What if we fail to stop the next attack against the U.S.?”

“That’s why we hire the best and brightest to work for our intelligence agencies. To stop these attacks.”

“It won’t always be enough,” Berg said, creating an awkward pause in the conference.

“Mr. President, I stand by my team’s assessment. The value of taking this fight to Vektor Labs far outweighs the risks, which can be mitigated the sooner we act,” Director Copley said.

The president rubbed his face and stared at Karl Berg for a few seconds. The answer had been evident on the president’s face as soon as he lowered his hands, but something caused him some hesitation. Berg wondered how much the president had been told about the missions and decisions leading to the discovery of True America’s plot. Did he know that Berg had initiated a series of questionable covert activities that put the FBI in a position to stop the insane vision of domestic terrorists? Was he trying to gauge whether his words would have any impact on Berg’s course of action?

“Director Copley,” the president began, “the nation owes this team a debt of gratitude that can never be fully explained, or adequately paid, but I won’t authorize this raid without credible evidence of a more immediate threat. I’d like to approach this from a different angle, using diplomacy instead of mercenaries. If that fails, I will reconsider taking direct action. Until then, all planning activities related to a raid on Vektor Labs must cease.”

Berg had expected the president to reject their plan, but he hadn’t expected the overt slapdown that came with his less than subtle use of the word
mercenaries
. He felt his blood begin to rise, and had to use every ounce of restraint he possessed not to respond. These “mercenaries” had saved countless lives and prevented the United States from spiraling into utter chaos. They had sacrificed without hesitation, against near suicidal odds. General Sanderson may be a devious son of a bitch on many levels, but his loyalty and commitment to the United States remained untarnished, which was more than Berg could say for the men sitting across from him.

“I understand, Mr. President. We’ll monitor the situation at Vektor closely. If a threat emerges, we’ll be in a position to offer a solution,” Director Copley said.

The president stood up from the small conference table, along with Jacob Remy, signifying the end of their meeting. Berg stood respectfully and kept silent. A secret service agent escorted them past the security station inside the West Wing lobby, where Director Copley separated from Manning and Berg. He had arranged a few additional meetings to coincide with his trip to Capitol Hill, most likely to spare himself the discomfort of riding back to McLean with the two of them. This suited Berg fine, since he had no intention of dropping the issue of Vektor labs. The director didn’t reinforce the president’s decree while they weaved their way through the hectic hallways of the West Wing. They engaged in small talk about the White House and some of the historically significant pieces located throughout the living museum. Maybe that was Director Copley’s intention. Manning waited until they were safely behind the thick bullet-resistant glass and armored chassis of an agency Suburban before speaking.

“That didn’t turn out like I expected,” Manning said.

“Yes, it did,” Berg said, staring out of the window at the White House.

“Maybe you’re right. The president left us some wiggle room, and Copley conveniently disappeared. I want you to contact Minkowitz and see what the Israelis can offer about the Iranians.”

“We’ll need more than that. The Israelis whispering sweet nothings about Iranian WMD projects won’t sway the president or his National Security Council. I’ll take another trip to Vermont. Reznikov isn’t the type to give us everything up front. He never mentioned Iranians at the facility. Maybe he can verify one of these sweet nothings.”

“If you can make that kind of connection, I’ll take this right back to Copley.”

“And if Copley can’t convince the president?” Berg asked.

“We need the president’s support to get Sanderson’s people out of there. With the president on board, I can put together a package that will give them a fighting chance to reach the Kazakhstan border. Two hundred plus miles is a long journey without help.”

“Sanderson’s people will take the mission…regardless,” Berg said.

“That’s his choice. Our job is to identify the threats and match them up with the appropriate solution,” Manning said.

Berg sighed. “We owe Sanderson more than that.”

“I agree,” Manning said, “which is why we need to find a way to gain the president’s approval.”

“And if that fails?”

“We go with Plan B.”

“I wasn’t aware of a Plan B,” Berg replied.

“Plan B is whatever we can cobble together using your vast network of friends and favors.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come down to Plan B. The past month has exhausted my supply of favors.”

Chapter 13

7:41 PM

Starbucks, South Lakes Village Shopping Center

Reston, Virginia

Karl Berg carried two double espressos to a table in the back corner of the café and gently placed the saucers on the table in front of Wiljam Minkowitz. The serious-looking Mossad liaison regarded the small porcelain cup for a moment and stared up at him with a neutral expression until he sat down. The table was isolated enough from the other seating choices to allow a private conversation. Less than twenty minutes from closing, only one other table was occupied. As Berg had observed previously, the window table at this location was always the last to clear before the baristas locked the door. Aside from a few to-go orders, they would have few interruptions.

“Thank you for making a trip out into the suburbs at short notice,” Berg said.

Minkowitz responded in a New England accent that sounded as natural as Berg’s. “My pleasure. Receiving an invitation to coffee by a rising star piqued my curiosity,” he said, radiating a false smile.

“Still,” Berg said, “considering the fact that Thomas Manning has been avoiding you, I appreciate this.”

“I know exactly why Thomas is dodging me…and so do you. That’s why I’m here,” Minkowitz said, relaxing with a sip of espresso.

“We need help with something related to your Persian friends.”

The Israeli lifted his right eyebrow and pushed his wire-rim glasses back with his index finger. “We’re doing all we can in that arena…by ourselves, I might add.”

“We’d like to make a contribution to that cause. How familiar are you with Vektor Labs?”

“How serious are you about making a contribution?” Minkowitz asked.

“Deadly serious. I’d like to put Building Six out of business…permanently,” Berg said.

“So what’s stopping you? I’m still afraid to drink your tap water.”

“Vektor doesn’t fit the criteria of a clear and present danger to the United States,” Berg said.

“I don’t understand your politicians. They declare war on threats that don’t exist, against enemies that they can control…but they don’t have the stomach to take action against the threats right in front of their faces.”

“That’s where I come in,” Berg said.

“And how exactly can I help?”

“If I can definitively link the Iranians to Vektor, the president will green light my operation. We’re talking about more than a simple strike against Building Six. I want to permanently shut down the program.”

“And any Iranian connection?” Minkowitz asked.

“Yes. If there are Iranians involved, they will cease to be a threat to Israel and the United States. This happens even if a strike against Vektor is prohibited. I promise you that much.”

Wiljam Minkowitz finished his espresso and studied Berg. He started nodding slowly, then a genuine smile formed on his thin lips. He extended his hand. “We have a deal. I will provide you with two dossiers. One for a scientist, and one for the Iranian intelligence agent assigned to watch over him. We can’t confirm exactly what the scientist is doing inside the lab, but I can assure you he’s not studying chicken pox vaccines.”

“I might have a source that can help fill in those gaps,” Berg said.

“I hear that source came at considerable price,” Minkowitz said.

“And we just received another bill.”